


We don´t talk about it

by wilhelms



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drug Addiction, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 01:39:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9050053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilhelms/pseuds/wilhelms
Summary: My take on Sherlock/Mycroft relationships. Couple of days before the new series starts. Flashbacks to the past. A bit of analyzing. Family ships are my thing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for giving this a chance. It means a lot. Also forgive me for all the mistakes, I´m not a native speaker.

"What happened? What happened between you two, really, Sherlock you have never told me" Sherlock was storming out of the plane, now full of adrenaline rush after the overdoze, he was sweating, trembling, dizzy, a person who was trying to get a grib on the reality of life again, back to the 21th century, back to computers, cars and planes. 

It took John a bit of chasing and calming down to ask his question again.  
"We don´t talk about it." Sherlock said, turning his head toward the window.  
Again, the attitude of a child, it alaways made John roll his eyes as an annoyed parent. 

"Maybe this is the right time to start" he offered.  
"Who are you, John? My psychiatrist now, John?"  
Another eye roll.  
"No, just a friend." John answered calmly, patiently. 

Sherlock cursed him silently, only John could make him talk about things that he wished to stay in the shadows and were there rreally things that he wished to stay in the shadows? He took a deep breath. That was it, a big traumatic story to talk about. 

"The thing is John, what happened is very hard to understand for a person like you. You see nothing terrible happened and yet it was a big tragedy for me. I ...."he started but suddenly everything that was supposed to follow sounded so childish, not good enough, it sounded so ....whiney. What really happened? His big beloved brother left him, that was what happened, but how could you tell this to a person who went to war, who saw people dying, who fell out with his own sister and for much greater reasons. 

"Just, say it. Say whatever you want and no matter what, I will not judge you" Watson promised, his hands in the air, defending himself from any attacks of suspicious Sherlock. 

Sherlock stood up, a manner he always enjoyed doing. John has noticed that whenever he wanted to explain something he had to stand up and walk around the room like a professor and this time it was no difference. Though John guessed that the reason was more because of the itchy feeling. Sherlock would never talk about his personal feelings, his personal life before, une grande premiere. 

"It is just.... it is so pathetic to say. PATHETIC" he screamed "Mycroft, he, he was the only person that really understood me. You, you have met my parents, they are ... lovely, lovely people. My father, he, being as a kind man as himself, he never knew how to talk to us, we would be s o foolish to trick him, and it was SO easy to trick him. My mother, a genius in the family, she was pre-occupied with her books and while we were growing up admiring her work, it was hard for me or Mycroft to really find that connection. Neither of us would require motherly hugs, fatherly teachings of fishing or kicking balls. With Mycroft it was different. Thanks to our age difference, Mycroft always felt like a protector, like someone who ALWAYS knew what to do. Be it having to give a normal school a chance, homeschooling or the expensive boarding school, my parents managed to provide me with later in my teens. He was always there, offering challenge, offering advice, although don´t tell him this." he smiled shyly. Sherlock always knew that despite his cheaky arguments Mycroft was more intelligent than him. He often missed what Mycroft alaready knew, but one could not live without another. And if the two of them were in the same room, God protect you. The Sherlock brothers were invincible. 

"When Mycroft left, I had no one. When he left, I was sent to the boarding school. A good psychologist would say that was a breaking point for me. I am not going to lie, John, it was. The boarding school was brutal. Everyone hated me and I hated everyone. You can imagine that, can´t you? I was terribly desperate, I started taking drugs. I always felt so relaxed after a bit of cocaine, morphine. I knew how much I should take, a wonderful pupil of Mrs. Jenkins, our chemistry teacher. I knew exactly what to do to pretend to be sober next day and no one would ever blink an eye over my absent days. I was a prefect, a brilliant student, I represented my school everywhere I went. Maybe they knew, maybe they didn´t. I guess they did" he laughed bitterly. "but chose to ingore it, probably easier to do, don´t you think?" 

"But Mycroft was not that easy to trick. When he came back from Cambridge, he was furious, devastated even. Angry at himself, our parents, me.... he was really really disappointed with me. Gave me a lecture, threatened me with a rehab, suddenly after two years spending on Erasmus programmes and internships around the world so that he didn´t have to face the boring life of his family, he came back to lecture me. As you can imagine it was not easy for him to swallow that after all his genial brother, someone who he imagined as his mini-me would eventually be such a loser and I guess that is the end of the story." he chuckled. 

"Sherlock, but it sounds like Mycroft actually cares about you, you know that, right?" 

Sherlock stood up, looking for something to drink. "Mrs Hudson, how about a cuppa or two for me and John, here?" 

"Yeah, he does, sure...." a bitter laugh. 

John never understood why Sherlock would be so negative about Mycroft´s overprotective feelings towards him. Even him and his sister, despite having a relatively good relationships (despite her ups and downs, mostly downs) they didn´t get to spend as much time as Sherlock and Mycroft, weren´t so often in contanct with each other as often as these two (though that was part of their jobs, surely) and definitely weren´t so childish. While Mycroft seemed to at least partly admit that he actually really cared and felt sorry for his mistakes towards his brother, Sherlock on the other hand....... he was always so resentful. 

"Sherlock, Mycroft he is sick" John said, he knew he promised not to tell Sherlock. He promised, but... he only wished Sherlock could see that Mycroft really cared. 

"He is sick of me" he chuckled. 

The door opened and Mrs Hudson entered with two cups of tea and a smile on her face. "Everything for my boys" 

Perhaps a curse or a lucky moment, John said nothing about Mycroft´s cancer. It was not his battle to fight after all, right?


End file.
